Ladies Must Live eBook

And then, perhaps, some amiable hostess in need of
an extra man would send the launch to the Sea-Mew
to bring Mr. Fenimer back to dine; and he would come
on board, very civil, very neat, very punctilious on
matters of yachting etiquette; and he and Christine
having exchanged greeting, would find that they had
really nothing whatsoever to say to each other.

Their only vital topic of conversation was money,
and as this was always disagreeable, both of them
instinctively tried to avoid it. Whenever Fenimer
had money, he either speculated with it, or immediately
spent it on himself. So that he was always able
to say with perfect truth, whenever his daughter asked
for it, that he had none. The result of this
was that she had easily drifted into the simple custom
of running up bills for whatever she needed, and allowing
the tradesmen to fight it out with her father.

Such a system does not tend to economy. Christine’s
idea of what was necessary, derived from the extravagant
friends who offered her the most opportunity for amusing
herself, enlarged year by year. Besides, she
asked herself, why should she deny herself, in order
that her father might lose more money in copper stocks?

Sometimes during one of their casual meetings, he
would say to her under his breath: “Good
Heavens, girl, do you know, I’ve just had a bill
of almost three thousand dollars from your infernal
dressmaker? How can I stop your running up such
bills?” And she would answer coolly: “By
paying them every year or so.”

She knew—­she had always known since she
was a little girl—­that from this situation,
only marriage could rescue her, and from the worse
situation that would follow her father’s death;
for she suspected that he was deeply in debt.
Not having been brought up in a sentimental school
she was prepared to do her share in arranging such
a marriage. In the world in which she lived,
competition was severe. Already she had seen a
possible husband carried off under her nose by a little
school-room mouse who had had the aid of an efficient
mother.

But now for the first time in her life, she saw that
the game was in her own hands. She had only to
do the right thing—­only perhaps to avoid
doing the wrong one—­and her future was safe.

She heard Riatt calling and she followed him into
the laundry, where he had collected some candles:
he was much engaged in lighting a fire in the stove.

“But wouldn’t the kitchen range be better?”
she asked.

“No water turned on,” he answered.

To her this answer was utterly unintelligible.
What, she wondered, was the connection between fire
and water. But, rather characteristically, she
was disinclined to ask. She walked to the sink,
however, and turned the tap; a long husky cough came
from it, but no water.

After this burst of energy she sank into a chair,
amused to watch his arrangements. Thoroughly
idle people—­and there is not much question
that Miss Fenimer was idle—­learn a variety
of methods for keeping other people at work, and probably
the most effective of these is flattery. Christine
may have been ignorant of the feminine arts of cooking
and fire-making; but of the super-feminine art of
flattery she was a thorough mistress.